A single bicycle wheel upturned and mounted upon a stool (Bicycle Wheel, 1951, third version, after lost original of 1913). A snow shovel (In Advance of the Broken Arm, 1964, fourth version, after lost original of 1915). A painted window (Fresh Window, 1920). When Marcel Duchamp placed a mass produced 'readymade' before us and disrupted how we thought about and interpreted art, the "ordinary object [was] elevated to the dignity of a work of art by the mere choice of an artist."[i]

The objects were important not because of what they were, but because they were selected by the artist. Removed from their ordinary function and thereby striped of their usage, the object became art. With the integral addition of the onlooker witnessing the work and responding to it, the 'readymade' "created a new thought for [the particular] object.”[ii] We, the spectators, in accepting the role of transference through the act of looking, choose what we see in Duchamp's 'readymades'. Under our gaze, objects can take on entirely new and obscure meanings[iii].

To my mind, following this train of thought, both Reckless Sleepers with Nat Cursio’s performance of A String Section (2012) and Sarah Aiken's SET (2015), celebrate the utilitarian object, redefining its role and how we regard it. After all, 'readymade' (tout-fait) is a homophone for 'to-make' (tu fait); it is up to you to make of it what you will.

A free, one night only performance of Leen Dewilde's A String Section, as part of a seemingly perfect exchange between the Belgium/UK based company, Reckless Sleepers, and current Coopers Malthouse resident, Nat Cursio Co., released the humble handsaw from its place in the tool shed. Coupled with a timber chair to chew through, it became a musical instrument for 50 minutes in the Bagging Room of the Malthouse Theatre. A musical instrument wielded by Cursio, Dewilde, Alice Dixon, Caroline Meaden, and Chimene Steele-Prior, who proceeded to reduce the functional to sawdust. As befits an orchestral quintet, each performer wore a black dress and neat heels. And in their hands, each held their bow, an orange-handled saw. Their instrument: a wooden chair (varying quality and style). Their invitation extended: "watch [an] object have its history changed in front of you."[iv] Embracing the idea of the 'readymade', I was free to redefine the object’s role and thereby ascribe my own meaning.

From my external world, I brought to 'the creative act', my own sensitivity and humour. And as with Cursio's Tiny Slopes work-in-progress teaser, seen earlier in the year as part of Dance Massive 2015, I saw my own self in the actions of the performers as opposed to laughing at them and their attempts to saw a chair leg whilst remaining seated or crouched on the chair. I wondered if they were ever tempted to pick up their chairs and break the limbs through force as opposed to the slow snuggle-toothed slog of back and forth with a handsaw. I imagined what it would be like to be a part of this work:

Imagine sitting on a chair. Lean forward, keeping your feet on the ground, if you wish, and commence sawing with your preferred hand at one of the two front legs. You may wish to hop off the chair and saw, or to place the chair on a workbench, but this is not permitted. You must saw the chair leg whilst balanced on the chair. You will need to move your own body weight in order to do this. You will need to contort your form. You may extend a leg outward and hold it in the air for balance like a prehensile tail. You will probably find this awkward. And this is only the first step. The teeth of your saw may catch. This is to be expected. Work through this. Keep going. In 50 minutes, your task is to reduce the chair to pieces and sawdust. In this period, you will have turned the functional into something useless. You will have transformed an object into nothingness. For this, you may have a blister to show for your labour. You may also have a sweaty brow. Your black orchestra pit attire will be covered in fine powder. You will have reduced a beautiful timber chair to crumbs, but given it a great finale. The sound your saw made as you worked, your music, and the struggle of the task, reflective of the artistic process. In a grandiose moment, you may have reinterpreted the words of Théophile Gautier as you thought: "There is nothing really beautiful save what is of no possible use". In the end, it all ends up scrap.

I responded to the determination and conviction of the performers as I read my own frustrations in their labour. I admired their balance on their wonky-legged rafts, and devoured their deadpan humour. This work, to me, was about strength in all its guises: strength to continue, to pursue your own goals, a recognition of the hard slog of getting things done. Watching the performers adapt to their seats as they became increasingly unsteady, to me, was a picture of the creative act in all its warty (or is that dusty?) glory. But if the mundane and the functional can became a musical instrument, so too can a hardship become a victory. All too often it is from this standing that new ideas can be explored. Shifting positions throws up not just challenges, but new perceptions. And this idea of how things look and how things are was also woven into Dancehouse Housemate/artist in residence Aiken's new work, SET, which looked to “distort and manipulate bodies and objects to playfully reimagine perspective."[v]

Comprised of three vignettes, as with A String Section, it was shown that you could lose your footing and regain it. A dancer can alter their proportions in such a way to transform from a gangly giraffe unsure of where their limbs end (when standing upright) to a broken timepiece (when rotating clockwise on the floor) with the aid of four long cardboard cylinders. With all four limbs encased in tubes, lying on her back, legs and arms extended upwards, Aiken shape-shifted and became a piece of unworldly and unyielding seaweed. But the greatest transformation took place in the second vignette when Aiken made herself appear, through overlaid projections, no taller than a black coffee mug.

Projected onto a large white piece of fabric cut out in the shape of a giant glove, which had been slowly winched into place, what we see and what we know was tested. The projected image appeared to be a live playback of the stage to the left of the giant glove. So far, so surreal, both projected image and stage appeared in cahoots. There, the black coffee mug, and over there, the single white sneaker. In keeping with the monochrome, over there, a grey plastic elephant. Atop this accepted visual, a second appeared, that of a shrunken Aiken wandering through the assorted miscellanea. A digital collage, Aiken was rendered the size of the forms she negotiated. Upon the makeshift screen, how I read scale had been cleverly (though not seamlessly) altered. The toy elephant, on screen, had assumed actual size. My eyes took in the visual conjurer’s trick and flitted back and forth from the altered reality of the screen to the 'real' scene. Several yoga-like poses undertaken in the far left of the room on the lip of an existing stage seemed unremarkable, but looking back at the screen this was actually the exact area inside the black mug. It gave the impression of Aiken as a genie in a bottle, a performer in a coffee mug undertaking their morning asanas. Distorting scale and toying with my perception, this simple illusion was one of the strengths of the piece.

Given the opportunity to complete both pieces through my own willingness to engage, the transference between performer/work and audience/spectator was completed. Through an unspoken dialogue, I, like those seated around me, became a transfixed part of A String Section. Through audience participation, we became, quite literally, the missing slow-shuffling link in SET, as Nick Cave crooned Into My Arms and the disco ball twinkled. In the middle of winter, armed with saws, chairs, and cardboard tubes, everything was related and connected, as we attempted to put art back "in the service of the mind"[vi]. Since then, I have been left with a hankering to saw at the very foundations I sit on whilst my limbs are encased in cardboard cylinders; I couldn’t have asked for more.

Notes:[i] Marcel Duchamp, as quoted in The Art of Assemblage: A Symposium, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, 19th October, 1961.[ii] "Whether Mr Mutt with his own hands made the fountain or not has no importance. He CHOSE it. He took an ordinary article of life, and placed it so that its useful significance disappeared under the new title and point of view — created a new thought for that object." — An anonymous editorial published in an issue of The Blind Man, May 1917, a magazine published by Duchamp and friends.[iii] "The creative act is not performed by the artist alone; the spectator brings the work in contact with the external world by deciphering and interpreting its inner qualifications and thus adds his contribution to the creative act." — Marcel Duchamp, 'The Creative Act', The Writings of Marcel Duchamp, ed. Michel Sanouillet and Elmer Peterson, New York: Da Capo, 1973, p. 140.[iv] Mole Wetherell, A String Section statement, Reckless Sleepers website, accessed 19th July, 2015.[v] Sarah Aiken, SET statement, Dancehouse programme, Friday 24th July, 2015.[vi] Marcel Duchamp, as quoted in H. H. Arnason and Marla F. Prather, History of Modern Art: Painting, Sculpture, Architecture, Photography (fourth edition), New York: Harry N. Abrams, Inc., 1998, p. 274.

Thursday, 02 July 2015

Because I cannot recall what I have and have not posted, popping up on a quiet eve with one or two things new, considerably less new, and of possible interest (to all but the Pallas cat (Felis manul), it would seem).

In the borrowed costume for the Bluebird from The sleeping princess, designed by Léon Bakst, c 1921, with a Laughing Kookaburra (Dacelo novaeguineae), 2015, collage on carte de visite with pencil additions, with accompanying lino print title card.

The earlier Thither & Hither might have sold out, but for three gold coins, you can now pick up a concertinaed anteater and its muzzled and winged companions here. (Go on, allow for your good self to be tempted, if you've not already.)

+ The State Library of Victoria's the La Trobe Journal: Creating and collecting artists’ books in Australia (No 95 March 2015) is now available as a pdf download online. "This special issue of the La Trobe Journal focuses on the development of artists' books as an art practice in Australia. The digital revolution has led many to question the future of the book, yet more artists are involved with making books than ever before. Artists, printmakers, letterpress printers and binders are creating and designing books that draw upon and extend the traditional format."

Monday, 04 May 2015

whirlwind |ˈwəːlwɪnd|nouna column of air moving rapidly round and round in a cylindrical or funnel shape.• used with reference to a very energetic fairground of paper wares from the world over: a whirlwind of activity | [ as modifier ] : a whirlwind romance in the Great Hall. (Here's to the book in all its guises!)

From the two of us, and our paper menagerie, a huge thank-you to every single one of you who came by our stall this weekend and said hi. And big love and thanks to Megan Patty and all the staff at the NGV.

{In the borrowed costume for the Bonze from The Nightingale, after David Hockney, 1982, with a Nine-banded armadillo (Dasypus novemcinctus) and a male Gouldian finch (Erythrura gouldiae).}

{In the borrowed costume for one of three Brigands from Daphnis et Chloé, after Léon Bakst, 1912, with a Diana monkey (Cercopithecus diana).}{In the borrowed costume for a Young Man from The Rite of Spring, after Nicholas Roerich, 1913, with a Great horned owl (Bubo virginianus).}

I couldn't resist sharing, from a loose series of fifteen, here is a look at six recent collages on cartes de visite that will be available individually at the forthcoming Melbourne Art Book Fair. They sport costumes and companions from the animal kingdom I can only but dream about.

With costumes still in mind, Frederick Ashton's charmed take on Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Dream (1964), opens tonight (in Sydney), and I cannot wait to see it together with Monotones II (1965) and Symphonic Variations (1946) when it comes to Melbourne (in June). Until then, here's to Bottom en pointe! And headpieces fashioned from (living) Nine-banded armadillos (Dasypus novemcinctus). How obliging. (Now hold still! I beg you, my Plaited Tail.)

And now, head across to the State Library of Victoria's blog to read all about Louise and my work with (papered and helpful) animals. (Thanks Anna.)

Gracia & Louise on making artists' books: This month we welcome guest bloggers Gracia Haby and Louise Jennison, the artists who created the spectacular piece featured on the cover of the latest La Trobe Journal. In this guest post, Gracia & Louise discuss their work with books and paper, and the nature of inspiration and collaboration.

Up to the gills in show and tell, in addition to this artists' book, we will have several original Salvaged Relatives (not from the artists' book) available, as well as a troupe (or six) reproduced and bound in zine format. With eleven new zine titles and two unique-state artists' books, we're looking forward to seeing you at the fair.

The Melbourne Art Book Fair will take place at NGV International, 180 St Kilda Road, Melbourne from 10am-5pm, Saturday 2 and Sunday 3 May 2015, with a special evening preview party on Friday 1 May 2015. The Fair is free and open to the public.

A ticketed preview evening will take place on Friday 1 May 2015 from 6-10pm. The preview is a special opportunity for visitors to preview the Fair, purchase limited edition publications and interact with publishers and artists before the weekend program commences. The preview will also be a curated social, music, food and beverage experience.

If you are the type of person who likes to lose yourself in second-hand shops and junk markets, you will be familiar with a certain type of object: a faded photographic portrait of a person in 19th-century dress, pasted onto thick card. The name of the photographer’s studio is probably stamped on the bottom of the mount, but the identity of the sitter is usually unknown — unless a rare handwritten inscription on the reverse gives some clue. At some point these visages from the past have become separated from their descendants, too far-removed from those who loved them, and they have been sold or thrown away.

I always feel a bit sad when I find them, for it is the inevitable fate of most of us — our lives forgotten, our likenesses discarded. These objects are cabinet cards, a format first introduced in the 1860s. Initially the portraits were made using albumen photographic paper, where the image layer was made of egg white sensitized with silver salts. Over time, albumen prints tend to brown and fade, sometimes also acquiring a smattering of pale spots, like cream-coloured measles. The popularity of cabinet cards waned at the turn of the century, when the Kodak Box Brownie camera put photography in the hands of everyone.

Gracia Haby and Louise Jennison seek to reclaim some of these lost souls. In February Melbournites were treated to a one-night-only viewing of Gracia + Louises' latest work, Salvaged Relatives. The exhibition consisted of three artists’ books, each a unique state, and each featuring 21 individual collages on cabinet cards with pencil and paint additions. Each set is housed in a beautiful linen Solander box (one red, one yellow and one blue), the lid of each inlaid with one collage. As ever, the work of Gracia and Louise is both technically exquisite and imaginatively dreamlike. The viewing was held at Milly Sleeping, a clothing boutique specialising in locally-made clothing, accessories and jewelry from designers in Australia and New Zealand. Owners Janette and Leah have long been supporters of Gracia + Louise and their petite store provided a perfect venue for viewing such intimate work.

Haby has clothed the three sets of anonymous folk in the luxurious costumes of the Ballet Russes, which were inspired by artists such as Natalia Goncharova, Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque, and the fairytale music of Rimsky-Korsakov, Debussy and Stravinsky. Our salvaged relatives now also have birds and beasts as companions. A fish peeks out from the gold brocade jacket of a mustachioed gentleman. Another portrait features a mysterious man in a blue cloak and a zebra disappearing stage right. A serious woman with a severe part looks past the songbird on her shoulder. And in one of the more ambiguous images, a lady appears to be sprouting a tail from underneath her skirts.

Viewers of the exhibition of course had their favourites. Some were attracted to a particular costume, colour or animal. Others were intrigued by the look of a person, wondering at the thoughts and passions hiding behind their serious expression. Whatever the reason, we all started to wonder about the person in the photograph — what were they like, and what had they done on that day, before this portrait was taken? Would they have been delighted at their new clothes, or terrified by the presence of an aardvark, giraffe or gecko in close proximity to their person?

In the artists’ notes Haby writes, 'My Salvaged Relatives, tucked inside a fairy tale inside a Solander box-nest where old age and weary muscles will not find you.' For the forgotten this is a re-awakening. We have recognised them once again as individuals, as people with hopes and fears, as real, and not just dusty objects in a shop window.

Alice Cannon is a paper and photograph conservator. She is also the editor of Materiality, through pinknantucket press.

+ Every four-six weeks, The Book Arts Newsletter is published at the Centre for Fine Print Research, U.K., edited by Sarah Bodman. Email Sarah Bodman to go onto the list to receive an email alert each time a new Issue is available for download.

A Poetic Partnership: The work of Gracia Haby and Louise JennisonIntroduction: Out of this World

At breakfast time a mosquito and a wasp came to the edge of the honey dish to drink. The mosquito was a lovely little high stepping gazelle, but the wasp was a fierce roaring tiger. Drink, my darlings! [1]The Journal of Katherine Mansfield 1919

The flicker of gold trimmed edges, the delicately hand-coloured plumage of a Yellow-fronted Woodpecker, intricate cut-outs and captivating silhouettes, the skilful illusion of shiny black velvet lit by stars against a midnight blue sky: the work of long time collaborators Gracia Haby and Louise Jennison presents a playful and transporting world. They bring gravitas to their pictorial works with narrative and a theatrical vision. At times this may be borrowed from, or inspired by, the likes of Charles Dickens or Katherine Mansfield, but mostly scribed by Gracia or Louise in original prose or text.[2]Such an approach augments the unique nature of this artistic partnership which produces artists’ books, zines, series of hand drawn pictures and sophisticated collage works. The key aspect of their practice is paper but essential ingredients also include imagination and language. This magical combination, set within the skill-base of each artist, makes for a rousing body of work. Their story of collaboration began well over a decade ago, in the painting studio at art school. After establishing a brilliant studio companionship (I am assured sharing a studio is a delicate matter), they have gone on to acquire new skills and techniques in order to produce ambitious and original works.

Printed Alliances

It is a well-known fact that the performing arts rely on collaborative artistic forces to create new work. Some of these relationships may be enduring but, more often than not, collaborators come together for the length of a production, the working connection sometimes lasting just a few months. The day-to-day business of running a visual arts studio is somewhat different, especially when the artists work together both to generate ideas and to produce finished works. The role of collaboration in the world of printmaking, for example, has a long and fascinating history. Painters and other artists have long engaged the expertise of printmakers in order to spread their work and ideas further afield. In the 1820s, John Constable began exploring the idea of reproducing his work in the print medium. Earlier attempts to experiment in mezzotint with Samuel William Reynolds and George Dawe proved disappointing and unfulfilling, but he was not discouraged. Upon meeting the young engraver David Lucas, Constable embarked upon a new series inspired by forty of his existing paintings: Various Subjects of Landscape, Characteristic of English Scenery, From Pictures Painted by John Constable, R.A.[3] The collaboration was initially predicated on Lucas’ technical skill and Constable’s artistic vision, but foremost required a united aesthetic. The nature of their alliance was somewhat fraught due to Constable’s overbearing and controlling approach: the resulting mezzotints however, add an intriguing dimension to Constable’s work.[4] Their collaboration not only highlighted Constable’s aptitude for risk-taking ventures, but also demonstrated an inability to trust print media for the interpretation of his powerful ideas. The English Landscape series, with an introductory text by Constable, enjoyed a number of editions, but the rich 'inky' quality of Lucas’ masterful mezzotints never quite satisfied the painter. Although the outcome can be considered a success, the nature of creative collaboration ultimately presented Constable with a serious challenge. Such an example reminds us that collaboration can be fraught, and serves to underscore the quality and success of Gracia and Louise’s working partnership.

Landscapes and Interior Spaces

A sultry and stifling day. Not a cloud in the sky...The sun-scorched grass looks bleak, hopeless: there may be rain, but it will never be green again...The forest stands silent, motionless, as if its treetops were looking off somewhere or waiting for something.[5]'The Huntsman' in Selected Short Stories of Anton Chekhov

In literature we find bountiful descriptions of populated woodlands, wild rocky sea cliffs and shorelines. Gracia and Louise skilfully bring such scenes to life in both large-scale prints and the tiniest pocket sized zines. Landscapes and cityscapes, animals and winged creatures appear in reimagined form as seemingly impossible scenarios become routine. Evocative panoramic scenes borrowed from vintage postcards and books provide the backdrop for many new works. With the addition of collage, pencil and text, fragments from the past are transformed into new tales and stories. Gracia Haby’s artists’ book As if from the clouds, restless (February, 2014)[6] unfolds like a Japanese screen to reveal colourful trapeze artists appearing to traverse rocky snow-capped Swiss Alps. The cut-out oversized figures swing and soar in and out of each frame. Never landing, always in flight, they are accompanied by large, imposing animals. A splendid hoopoe (Upupa epops) perches on the behind of one of the trapeze artists, and a cunning dhole (Cuon alpinus) observes on high from a rocky outcrop. The multi-layered parts of this work represent Gracia and Louise’s practice to a tee: they forage for old images, books and postcards from the past and interrupt them with carefully selected collaged pieces and drawing to create a new narrative. One is reminded of Max Ernst’s wonderful volumes of surrealist artist books Une Semaine de Bonté (1933-1934): those seamlessly twisted images are so carefully printed it is impossible to detect the artist’s intervention.

Taking inspiration from contemporary artists, the duo has engaged and commissioned others to participate in the making of new work. Writer Hila Shachar provided the poetic text, Evening Postcard, an enthralling tribute to the night, which features in It's the Dusty Hour, (August 2012). This enchanting zine, hand-stitched with a single piece of golden thread, presents spirited animals that occupy a series of interior spaces. These worlds are at once theatrical and delicate, presenting readers and print lovers alike with the perfect escape: animated wonderlands inhabited by enthralling narrative.

Noble Portraits

The tradition of portraiture under Gracia and Louise’s watch takes an unexpected turn. A recent suite of Salvaged Relatives (2014) presented under the mantle of Haby’s ongoing rediscovered sepia portraits of gentlemen and women newly decked out in borrowed costumes, have been set against Jennison’s hand-coloured landscaped backdrops[7], and more often than not accompanied by a handsome, larger than life, barn swallow. These reanimated folk are featured in zine format and also a tiny and exquisite nine second animated filmSalvaged Relatives and Bird Song.[8] Performance plays an instrumental role throughout their entire body of work. With a nod to the superb costuming of Ballet Russe or the modernity of Balanchine’s choreography, figures are endowed with a theatrical quality which adds to the vitality of each piece. Their capacity for detailed research is the equal of the best in academe.

Under the canopy of portraiture, I also include an edition of ten inky Plum-headed finches: these hand-printed gems contribute to Louise Jennison’s ongoing series of hand-crafted winged beauties. Working painstakingly, predominately with a 2B lead pencil, she has accomplished a mesmerising edition entitled A Year of Southern Hemisphere Birds (2013). The illustrations reveal absolute truth in terms of botanical detail, while the accompanying explorer’s narrative by Haby ensures these birds an existence beyond the two-dimensional. For In Your Dreams, Blurred and Distinct (2014), an ode to a much-loved family pet friend, she demonstrates her talent as a wordsmith:

At her side, a small cat burrows, trying to make a well between her waist, the crook of her elbow, and the mattress beneath. Clockwise, clockwise, round and round, the little frame of the Siamese cat, now more bone than flesh, slowly, awkwardly, rhythmically rotates in his search for sleep, but he cannot settle. At night, the long black cat that follows him by day cannot be seen, but is still felt: his long shadow, his time soon up. This nightly courtship, a dance performed as comfort sought, as constant as the stars.[9]In Your Dreams, Blurred and Distinct, text by Gracia Haby

Clearly, the visual is their core ingredient, but the works are completed by such texts, whether set alongside the objects encased in handcrafted solander boxes bound by Jennison, or handwritten on the gallery wall as part of an installation.

Print and Beyond

As Gracia and Louise continue to investigate the potential of artists’ publishing and creative collaboration, we have the privilege of witnessing the evolution of a dynamic and productive duo working in paper and beyond. Their website, blogs and Instagram feeds are also proof of their ability to generate thought-provoking new work from remnants of the past. Once you dip your toe into their world, you will soon find yourself completely absorbed, waiting for the next instalment, the following wonderful interpretation of the world around us. Just as Björk courageously explored the natural world and music through her piece Biophila, we observe the crystalline form of Gracia and Louise stretching from traditional print form to the digital world and beyond.

Dr Olivia Meehan is Research Fellow at ANU Centre for European Studies and Visiting Researcher at École Normale Supérieure Paris.

Friday, 10 April 2015

Nip. Snip. Glue. Press. In readiness for our part in the forthcoming Melbourne Art Book Fair at the NGV come May, the scissors and brushes are in near constant employment. Splice. Score. Fold. Stack. Who could ask for more than that?

.

..

Traveller dear,

Louise Jennison and I make artists’ books, we make all sorts of things, and most usually we make things on paper. Collaboration comes naturally to us both; it is an enjoyable process that yields treasure not possible without the other. Working side-by-side, as we do from our home-based studio in Melbourne, Australia, it is a pattern we are familiar with, a path we are delighted to tread, seeing what new scenario evolves. Collaboration throws up the unexpected, and what is not to like about that?

When not with scissors in hand, I can be found writing about ballet and contemporary dance for Fjord Review, and (upon occasion) painting and collage for RMIT.

With paper sufficient to cover the moon and sincerely yours, Gracia Haby
(High Up in the Trees since 2006)